for you only
by SylverEclipse
Summary: "Blinding darkness surrounds me, and I am reaching for you only." / Percy is losing himself after Annabeth's traumatizing death, and only his friends can bring him back.


**A companion to my other fic, His Happy Ending. Note that it's NOT a sequel; more like an AU to my other story. This deals with what occurs after Annabeth closes the Doors of Death, and how Percy copes with the loss. (Honestly, I think the probability of that happening is more likely then Percy closing them.)**

**I'd recommend listening to For You Only by Trading Yesterday. This story was based on that song, and it's absolutely beautiful.**

**I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

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Percy couldn't think. He didn't _want_ to think. If he concentrated on any subject, he would somehow trace the mental conversation back to her. The grief and the anger would quickly overwhelm him like a tidal wave, and then he would be swept away into his sea of emotions, struggling to gulp for air as the tumultuous waters would crash on him and gradually eradicate him.

Percy felt as if he were hallucinating and he swore that he was floating aimlessly underwater. How else would it explain this inner turmoil? There was this bizarre sensation that was engulfing him, slowly dragging him into an endless limbo.

He felt as if he was drowning.

He was gasping, choking, reaching desperately for someone to grip his hand and to never let go. He needed someone to pull him from this opaque oblivion. Even if he was in a state of uncertainty, one thing was for sure: he was terrified.

How could he survive? She was _literally_ his lifeline. If a monster so much as touched her, they would be thoroughly annihilated. They were partners in combat, best friends, lovers. But all he did was let her go.

He was seriously pondering the idea of searching for Queen Hera and begging for her to erase the awful memories. He attempted to do it himself; to just push the horrifying images away to the farthest reaches of his mind until it was buried under the masses of others.

It didn't work. The memory would wriggle its way back to the center of his brain, and it would pester him and torment him until his lamentation would begin anew.

He used to associate Annabeth with joy, but now all he could see was immeasurable darkness.

The darkness affected his eyes the most. They burned with their salty tears that threatened to leak through, and Percy would hastily wipe them away until he just couldn't take it anymore. After his trip through the Greek equivalent of Hell, Percy's mental state had become very delicate.

He could tell his sight was diminishing steadily. He couldn't look at anyone or anything without their figures blurring, and their outlines would disappear and melt into the environment. On rare occasions, Percy couldn't even discern whether or not if he was talking to a person or a random object.

It was as if his eyes were experiencing their own solar eclipse. Shadows danced and frolicked across his gaze until he could only glimpse small flashes of light, and he would simply give up and shut his eyes tightly. If he could barely see with his eyes open, then what difference did it make if they were closed?

He was sure that if other people heard of his case, they would dismiss it and say Percy was only speaking in a metaphorical sense. Percy wished someone could understand his situation, someone who would be able to help him and not be completely clueless.

He would wake up at the most unholy hour of the night, releasing deafening screeches and sobs until one particularly brave soul stepped forward and provided him some comfort. Oftentimes, he would suffer through anxiety attacks and agonizing flashbacks, and no one knew what to do. His temper had shrunken, and he flew into fits of rage at a sentence that implied even the slightest hint of aggression.

The other campers were concerned, but they were unfit to help him. They were convinced that they should leave him alone, and let him heal his wounds by himself. But Percy didn't want that. He despised the seclusion, the spiraling loneliness. He ached for someone to come and lift him up from his despondency. Why didn't they understand?

He was drowning, and no one could hear his cries for help.


End file.
